


Twice Shy

by blythechild



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Betrayal, Denial of Feelings, Extramarital Affairs, Fanart, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mistakes, Workplace Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-21
Updated: 2015-03-21
Packaged: 2018-03-18 22:59:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 13,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3587226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blythechild/pseuds/blythechild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seven years ago, Hotch and Reid had a brief affair. Now, Hotch wants to try again, but can they make it work with less impediments and more baggage?<br/>(Spoilers through season 10)</p><p> </p><p>This is a work of fanfiction and as such I do not claim ownership over the characters herein. It was created as a personal amusement. This story contains adult themes and shouldn't be read by those under the age of 18. Artwork included in this posting is the sole ownership of the author.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a result of a prompt by nevcolleil from the comment_fic community on Livejournal.
> 
> Also, AO3 doesn't have tags like angst-o-rama, angst-erific, or angst-a-doodle-doo, but it should. And this totally qualifies for all of them. You've been warned.

Seven years was a long time to cling to twelve days-worth of memories. But Reid recalled each of those twelve days as vividly as if they’d happened last week, and he replayed them over and over like a needle stuck in a groove. 

He tasted the bourbon on Hotch’s lips from the first time they kissed. He felt the howling need in his veins slow when he pressed his face against Hotch’s neck and breathed him in. He saw Hotch outlined in greys and indigos as they grappled with each other in the dark of anonymous hotel rooms. And he heard the terrible silence that followed when Hotch told him that he just _couldn’t_ anymore. He returned to Haley and Reid did whatever he could to erase how awful it felt to be someone’s second choice. 

An entire life lived in twelve short days, and being who Reid was, he was unable to forget a moment of it.

But then Haley left Hotch, and Foyet nearly killed him, and then successfully killed Haley. The horror spread out over years and Reid was useless against it. He wanted to help but Hotch pushed him away every time and it was almost worse than the initial rejection; Hotch didn’t want him to care _at all_. He felt sure that Hotch wouldn’t survive and it was killing Reid to just stand by and watch. But he kept it to himself, shoving it down on top of those twelve days and what they sparked in him - just another unwanted thing in him that he had to disguise.

And then Hotch chose Beth. Reid wouldn’t allow himself to think about that at all, ever.

When someone finally reached out and chose him, he was almost too confused to react to it. Poor, doomed Maeve - it still hurt whenever he thought of her, and yet her loss never cut as deep as it should. He wondered how real it actually was. They were both so desperate to be wanted; she by someone of her choosing, and he by anyone at all. If he’d managed to save her, would it have translated into something real? She’d always been a beautiful idea. It’s easier to love an idea than a person - he’d done both so he knew the difference. 

After Maeve, he sort of gave up on the concept of personal happiness. Nearly a decade of attempts had given him nothing but memories that would never dim and chronic heartache that he didn’t believe he deserved. He became tired of negotiating things he didn’t understand and instead focused on the work. He was good at it and sometimes whole days would pass by when he didn’t give himself a second thought, just like everyone else. It was blissful. 

Perversely, just when he got the hang of loneliness, it was then that Hotch began to pull him back in. There were the abbreviated conversations, stripped bare of everything but the essentials because they _knew_ each other that well. There was the renewed softness in Hotch’s tone when he asked for Reid’s input. And then there were the gentle attempts at inclusion: lighthearted fistbumps and a hand on his arm and lopsided smirks to his bad jokes. Reid only savored the edges of these moments before he pushed them down on top of the twelve days. Happiness was not for him - he mustn’t lose sight of that.

But seeing how Gideon’s life ended threw him for a loop. It could’ve easily been him under that sheet in an isolated cabin. Gideon had never recovered from losing Sarah, and even having a son who desperately wanted him hadn’t been enough to bring him back to the world. He’d continued with the work as if it was all he had, and in the end it killed him. Reid was traveling down the same road: reading endlessly, trailing after killers, and playing chess by himself. He was Gideon 2.0 and he wondered who would be standing over his body when the time came.

They were in a Pennsylvanian forest waiting on the local M.E. to clear their access to a body when Hotch came to stand beside him.

“So,” Hotch left the word hanging for a long time, breath ghosting up into the canopy of pine trees. “How are you doing?”

Reid tried not to infer that Hotch thought he was in need of coddling. They both knew he resented that. “You mean in regards to losing Gideon?”

“No,” Hotch turned and gave him a look too soft for a crime scene. “I mean how are _you_ doing?”

“It’s been a long time since anyone’s asked me that,” he said after a minute.

“I know and I’m sorry about that,” Hotch sighed and turned back to face the CSI techs swarming like flies. “Especially since you ask us how we are all the time.”

The memory of Day One broke the surface inside him… Hotch, almost too drunk to stand, burying his unspoken fears under an ocean of bourbon in some dim bar as Reid laid a hand along his shoulder and asked him how he was. Hotch turned and looked as if he might break right there, as if one more secret was too much to bear, and he reached up to clasp Reid’s hand like it was the lifeline he’d been desperately searching for…

Reid shook his head. “I ask because I care.”

“We care too. All of us,” Hotch cleared his throat, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Even if it appears that we don’t.”

“Well, intentions are one thing, but actions are what lingers.”

Hotch looked back at him and for an instant Reid saw that brokenness flicker across him before he reined it in. “You’re absolutely right.”

An M.E. drone trotted up and told them that they were free to examine the killing ground, and they went back to work. It wasn’t until half an hour later that Reid realized Hotch was asking permission for something.


	2. Chapter 2

“Reid.”

He looked up and saw the shadowed bullpen lit by a few desk lamps left by agents who had long gone home for the night. He blinked and wondered when that happened before looking up at Hotch standing next to his desk.

“Go home,” he murmured. “Whatever you’re working on can wait.”

“What if I’m working on a freshwater sustainability proposal, or a profile of those susceptible to fundamentalist brainwashing, or a cure for leukemia?” 

“Are you doing any of those things?”

“I’m doing my tax return.”

Hotch rolled his eyes. “Then go home.”

Reid thought about the quietness of his apartment, how it could sometimes be soothing and other times oppressive. Tonight felt like an oppressive night. He too often remembered Day Six and the sounds as their clothes cinched and their breath caught in that same quietness. He heard them knock softly into his bookshelves and Hotch whisper that he wanted to have him while taking in the smell of the musty pages and the words that he chose to surround himself with. Reid had almost come on the spot. 

“If it’s all the same to you, I think I’ll finish this,” he muttered.

“Fine.” A moment later, a greasy paper bag lowered into view on his desk. “Then this is to fuel the second wind that might help cure cancer. See you in the morning.”

Reid looked up just in time to catch the small smile Hotch wore before he turned and headed for the elevators. The bag was from Reid’s favorite deli that was nowhere near Quantico. Inside was a pastrami on rye with capers, onions, Dijon _and_ mayo. It was a combination that had physically repulsed Hotch when he’d first seen Reid eat one. He looked up quickly, squinting into the darkness at the edge of the bullpen, but Hotch was already gone.


	3. Chapter 3

Reid stumbled into the staff kitchen in dire need of more coffee. Three cups hadn’t done the trick yet. He pulled up short when he saw Hotch at the sink, back turned, rinsing out the carafe.

“Give it five minutes,” he said without looking up. “I’m brewing a fresh pot.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you make coffee before.” Reid sagged against the countertop and watched Hotch perform caffeine alchemy.

“There’s a first time for everything.” His tone was light but Reid couldn’t see his face to know if he was smiling.

“Hey, there you are. I’ve been looking all over.”

They both glanced up and saw Rossi smirking in the doorway.

“You’ve been looking for me?” Hotch scowled.

“Celine called me.” Rossi seemed as if he’d grown four inches as he said it.

“Good for you, Dave. She appeared very interested,” Hotch smiled. Reid had no clue what this was about.

“She wasn’t the only one,” Rossi arched a knowing eyebrow at Hotch.

Hotch waved Rossi off and looked as though he might be blushing. Reid felt like he’d missed something significant and that soured his stomach.

“I was happy to be your wingman, but that’s where it ends.”

“Wingman? You were Rossi’s wingman?” Reid tried to keep the words even and only mildly interested.

Hotch looked to him quickly but Rossi spoke up before he could. 

“Our fearless leader here was smooth. Celine said Audrey talked about him with great warmth after our night out. She was impressed by your sightseeing suggestions… she’s probably hoping for a guided tour, Aaron…”

“I don’t think either of our schedules will allow for that,” Hotch demurred. 

“ _Make_ time, Hotch.” Rossi’s eyebrows were in full bullying mode. “At our age, interesting, available women aren’t a common occurrence. You’re clearly ready to move on from Beth. There’s no harm in one date… we could even double if it makes you feel more at ease…”

Hotch laughed nervously and held up his hands. “No offense, Dave, but I think going on a double date with you might be the most stressful experience I could have at the moment. Thanks, but I’m fine with where I am right now. Audrey was lovely and I enjoyed her company, but that’s all it was.”

Hotch glanced over at Reid again but he turned away and contemplated his empty mug. He heard Rossi let out an exasperated sigh.

“Suit yourself. But I’m telling you: you should call her. Have a little fun in between all of that scowling, Aaron. It’ll do you a world of good.”

“I’ll consider it,” Hotch chuckled.

The kitchen went silent as Rossi departed and Reid listened to the hiss and gurgle of the coffeemaker as if it were a message from an alien intelligence. He didn’t look up from his mug; he just _couldn’t_. He remembered Day Twelve and the flatness of Hotch’s voice as he told Reid that he had to try and make his marriage work - he had to for Jack’s sake and because Haley deserved it. There was no mention of what Reid deserved or if Hotch even thought about that before he said it. And then the conversation just ended - Hotch’s lips kept moving but Reid couldn’t hear anything but the deaf/muteness of being unwanted. It was stupid because it’d only been twelve days and how could you get _that far gone_ in less than two weeks, but it hurt worse than his Dad leaving or his Mom mentally checking out or Gideon abandoning him or betraying himself with a shot of Dilaudid… And he just had to shove it all down before he started gagging on it.

“How’s the coffee coming?” he croaked eventually.

“Almost there.” Hotch waited a moment. “Reid?”

Reid didn’t look up. He could hear Hotch; all he had to do was start talking. Reid didn’t feel as though he owed him any more commitment than that, but when Reid didn’t answer, he felt Hotch move closer.

“Spencer?”

Hotch hadn’t called him by his first name in two thousand five hundred and eleven days. Reid figured that was worthy of eye contact and looked up. Hotch appeared startlingly hurt and it simultaneously confused and shocked Reid down to his bones.

“I’m sorry,” Hotch murmured. “About what Rossi said…”

“Why are you sorry?”

“That must have been… uncomfortable for you.”

Reid laughed and it was too loud and too reckless. “That consideration is about seven years too late. Why do you think that I believe it’s any of my business anymore?”

“I… I don’t know. I just thought…”

“You don’t have to apologize for the choices you’ve made, Hotch. We only have to own the decisions we make for ourselves, not how others react to them - you don’t owe me anything. It’s all ancient history.”

“That’s not true at all.” Hotch sounded angry and stepped close enough to reach out if he wanted. “How we effect those around us is just as important as what we do for ourselves.”

“Well then, you should think about calling that woman back. It sounds like you either owe _her_ an apology, or you owe her a date.”

Hotch looked stunned, frozen with an uncharacteristic slack-jawed expression on his face. It was unnerving. He blinked a few times before he could manage to speak again.

“Don’t you believe in second chances?”

And it was Reid’s turn to be stunned. “Are you asking for a philosophical response, or are you actually _asking?_ ”

“I’m actually asking.”

The coffeemaker made an impressive gurgle and snap that signified the brewing was done. Reid shook himself out of his confusion and brushed past Hotch on autopilot towards the machine. He poured himself a cup and mixed it meticulously as he tried to figure out what to say. He felt Hotch’s eyes following him.

“I believe in second chances, Hotch, but I don’t want to be anyone’s second choice.”

“You’re not,” Hotch whispered quickly.

“You chose Haley.” Reid turned and stared him down. “And then you chose Beth.”

Hotch didn’t have a rebuttal for that, and Reid felt it fitting that they end it there. Anything else would’ve been mean spirited. He shoved this new abandonment down on top of the rest and exited the kitchen, slurping his coffee to cover the shaking of his hands.


	4. Chapter 4

Denver was cold, and the thinness of the air was starting to get to him, but Reid would still rather be outside wheezing than inside the PD receiving congratulations for killing someone. It was moments like this when he wished he smoked - at least he’d have a justification for huddling out in the cold that no one would question. It was just a matter of time before someone came out to check up on him, and his resentment about that bit harder than the Colorado cold. He heard the PD door click and then the gentle scuff of footfalls until he could feel a body come to rest beside him. He waited for the inevitable question, but it never came. There was just the steady breathing that left white puffs in the air between them.

“Aren’t you cold?” Hotch murmured eventually.

“Yes,” Reid smirked and then felt it melt away. “But it feels good. Like I deserve it.”

He knew that Hotch was staring at him, and braced himself for whatever tired pep talk he was about to cough up. Cars sloshed through the midwinter slush in the street in front of them; Reid counted nineteen before Hotch sighed beside him.

“I’m not here to talk you out of this mood you’re in, you know.”

That caught Reid by surprise and he peered at Hotch for the first time. He was also pissed off that Hotch thought of his remorse as something as trivial as ‘a mood’.

“I respect your instincts too much for that,” Hotch continued, looking to the street before them. “You’ll do what you have to, feel what you must - and when you start to turn blue from hypothermia, I’ll drive you to the hospital. No questions asked.”

Reid was floored by the admission of trust. He never expected that from anyone. Something warm snaked through his belly and he squashed it quickly just as he suppressed his urge to match Hotch’s hidden smirk. There would be no smirking… he was too busy being in ‘a mood’… Instead, he released his own sigh into the air and remembered the times early in his career when he felt he could ask Hotch anything. Maybe it was his innocence or inexperience, but Hotch never denied him an answer back then. It made him feel special, wanted, and he’d missed it terribly in the intervening years. After those twelve days, Reid never asked Hotch anything, and Hotch never offered anything back. It was like an unspoken pact between them.

“Don’t you ever get tired of losing people?” He asked it on reflex, too exhausted to worry if he’d get an honest answer or not. “Even people that the world would be better off without…”

Hotch stiffened and then peered down at his salt-stained shoes. Reid was certain that he wasn’t going to respond when he sucked in a huge breath and nodded slowly. 

“I started doing something after Haley died,” he whispered. “When I wake up each morning, for the first minute I imagine everyone I care about is dead.”

Reid tried to figure out how to react. The admission was intimate, in a way that they hadn’t been for years, and Reid was ashamed to feel the warmth in his stomach expand alongside the horror at what Hotch was telling him.

“Why?” he said in the end.

“Because I need the pain to give everything meaning.” Hotch turned to face him, weary but also a little relieved. “I need to remember that I still have things to lose. And because I don’t ever want to become used to death - it should always terrify me.” 

“Well… uh, sure, but that sounds like torture. There ought to be more to life than the fear of loss, Hotch. Good things… things worth living _for_ …”

Hotch was expressionless for a second before relief washed over him and he smiled, a genuine, crinkly smile that the rest of the team might qualify as an endangered species.

“You’re right. I’m working on that part.” He reached out and squeezed Reid’s shoulder. Then he twitched as if remembering himself, and retracted his hand as tactfully as he could. Reid looked away and shuffled his feet to cover both of their embarrassment.

“Thanks for telling me that.” The warmth was starting to grow, to get away from him. Damn Hotch… he was trying to be in a mood here…

“Sure,” Hotch shrugged and turned back towards the door. “I’m giving you fifteen more minutes before I come back out to check for signs of frostbite. Fair warning.”

“‘Kay.”

He couldn’t tell if Hotch was still smiling as he went back inside, and Hotch never looked back to see that Reid was.


	5. Chapter 5

Hotch began asking him how he was. At first, he didn’t know how to respond, but as Hotch kept casually persisting, Reid grew accustomed to it. Eventually, he began to inquire when Hotch didn’t remember to do it. It started to feel natural even though no one else dared ask the boss how he was feeling on a daily basis.

Hotch brought him coffee on long stretches during cases in San Francisco, Tampa, and Fredericksburg. Sometimes he left it where Reid would discover it later, half cooled, when he came back to earth from whatever internal landscape he’d been mapping. Sometimes he pushed it into Reid’s hands, closing over them for an instant of added warmth before nodding at him with a silent ‘Keep at it’. When Hotch starting giving up his window seat on the jet for him without being asked, Reid knew where this was heading; he may still look young but his innocence had long since fled him. He wanted to tell Hotch to stop, that it wasn’t worth soothing this old wound because Reid had already adjusted his worldview to one without an abundance of personal happiness. And he was fine with that, really. But there was no denying that the little considerations were wearing down a few of his rough edges, and that feeling was nice enough to convince him to ignore anything more that might be read into them.

On a late night flight back from a west coast case, Reid woke with a start as he felt pressure settle over his body. He was instantly alert, staring up at Hotch in the darkened cabin as he sat on the armrest of the jet’s tiny couch.

“I didn’t mean to wake you. You just looked cold,” he murmured and Reid realized that a blanket covered him.

He looked around quickly but discovered that they were essentially alone: Callahan and Rossi were under headphones, and J.J. and Morgan were asleep.

“You know, what you’re doing isn’t as subtle as you think it is,” Reid mumbled, settling into the blanket’s warmth. “It won’t get you what you want.”

“And what am I trying to get, Reid, other than your friendship?” Hotch’s expression was in lockdown - impossible to read.

“You’re trying to go back to a simpler time… when our dynamic was easier, our burdens were less. Neither one of us is innocent enough to pull that off any longer, Hotch. You can’t suddenly make our history not matter.”

Hotch sat on the armrest in the dim light and stared. Reid was pretty certain that he was looking at a memory, and not at him.

“Believe it or not, I wasn’t actually trying to do that,” he said quietly. “I… I just wanted to show you some respect. You’ve earned it over the years and I haven’t been good at reciprocating… I miss our friendship, Reid. Is that really beyond our reach now?”

“I honestly don’t know.”

It hurt him to say that and he fell silent afterwards because any follow-up would’ve been just as painful. He missed Hotch like sunshine during a bleak winter, and only a slice of that absence was physical. Hotch’s renewed consideration over the past few months had felt rejuvenating, as much as he fought against it. The idea that Hotch missed their talks, their understanding of one another, and their connection flew in the face of how completely the man had shut Reid out over the years. He wanted the words to be real, to be connected to some deep, pervasive feeling that Hotch had misguidedly pushed aside for some reason. But that sort of hope would open him up to all kinds of new injuries and he couldn’t make up his mind if it was worth it. In the end, Hotch just nodded, as if they’d had a more complete discussion than they’d actually had, and rose to return to his seat next to Morgan.

“We’ve still got another two hours. Try and go back to sleep, Reid.”


	6. Chapter 6

Reid decided to cut Hotch a little slack after that night on the jet. He knew he could be unrealistically stubborn when hurt, and not _all_ of his pain was Hotch’s fault. Hotch hadn’t been the one living in those twelve days for nearly seven years. Hotch hadn’t forced him to bury his feelings and carry an undying torch at the same time. Hotch hadn’t made him stay at the Bureau when taking a job - any job - elsewhere would’ve made things easier for both of them. It was more like a 75/25 split, blame-wise, with Hotch shouldering most, but not all of the responsibility for their current dilemma. So, when Hotch suggested a team night out after solving a kidnapping case in Phoenix, Reid nodded with a small smile along with the others, and received a grateful one in return that was just for him. 

It was a good evening, with food and drinks, hilarious stories and favorite memories so that Callahan could finally start getting some of their in-jokes. She was especially fond of Reid’s improbable exploits with ladies of the night. He never understood why people found that so funny, but after Morgan told the story about the time Reid reimbursed a woman named Shangri-La for the hour she spent teaching him to use chopsticks, and everyone was in stitches, he decided to embrace his own ridiculousness. 

“You seriously paid her $500 for that?” Callahan said as she wiped away the tears.

“Well, technically, it was out of my casino winnings, so the Nevada Gaming Commission and the Bellagio Corporation paid her for her time. And it was worth it - it totally stuck. Much better than J.J.’s elastic theory…”

“Thanks, Spence,” J.J. pulled a face at him.

“She was a hooker, Reid…” Callahan continued.

“She was a person, and I used some of her valuable time. She had the right to be compensated. Granted, we just talked, which probably doesn’t factor into her profession unduly, and the government pays _me_ to talk…”

“What about the shooting and the car chases?” Morgan grinned over his beer.

“That’s his fault,” Reid pointed at Hotch whose eyebrows rose at the sudden calling-out. “And all of the running an’ stuff is your fault, Morgan. I only signed up for the thinking part.”

“Kid, if I had any influence over you whatsoever, you’d be an Iron Man athlete by now,” Morgan winked.

“And I’m an excellent driver,” Hotch added from behind his pint glass.

Reid fixed him with an ‘oh, yeah?’ stare. “I wasn’t even in the Bureau for a month before I got to experience your tactical driving skills, Hotch. And that day, I’m ashamed to say, I was a prominently accelerated twenty-two year old genius in need of a change of underwear.”

“Sudden loss of bladder control is character building. And you turned out just fine.”

“Yes, thanks to scopolamine patches…” 

Everyone laughed again and Reid couldn’t help his own grin when he looked across the table and saw Hotch’s genuine amusement, so lighthearted and rare. Warmth was tingling through his bloodstream like a narcotic and he tried valiantly to shine it on. But it was hard to look away from Hotch and the twinkle in his eye as he launched into a dry, sarcastic BAU tale of his own. There hadn’t been enough nights like this over the years, and Reid hoped that there would be more in the future now that a certain sense of stability had settled over the unit. They all needed it like oxygen. And regardless of how he fought to keep his distance from Hotch, Reid didn’t want him to be miserable. The man needed to laugh more.

After a couple more rounds and various stories that revealed Hotch hit like a girl (which he took as a compliment), Morgan was irrationally afraid of butterflies, J.J. was better at touch football than any agent in the unit, and Rossi once sang in a barbershop quartet, Reid announced that he was calling it a night. J.J. seconded his announcement with a tired yawn and before he knew it, he, Hotch and J.J. were walking back to the hotel leaving the others to their inevitable hangovers. 

They all sauntered unsteadily through the hotel lobby, still laughing and holding onto the lightness of the evening. Hotch and Reid walked J.J. to her room and watched her get in safely - a habit born out of the horror from their collective experiences - and then they moved down the hallway to Hotch’s room. Reid leaned against the wall and watched Hotch fish out his key card and take a couple of tries at unlocking the door. He looked back to Reid and shrugged.

“All good, then?” Reid grinned and pushed himself upright once more.

“Yeah. This hotel seems like an axe murderer-free zone. We’re so lucky.” Hotch smiled. “You gonna be alright? I’ve just recently discovered that you’re not fond of shooting and high-speed chases, so…”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t fond of them, Hotch - I just said that they were your fault. I didn’t have a lot of experience with that in the mathematics department at CalTech. But I’ve since learned that danger has its own endorphic rewards.”

They were both grinning when Reid reached out and pulled Hotch into him by a handful of his jacket. Their lips met clumsily and they both gasped in surprise before Reid’s instincts took over. He pushed past Hotch’s shock, slid in deep, and moaned gently when Hotch’s body softened and he felt fingers in his hair. Reid tightened his grip on Hotch’s jacket, felt a hand on his waist holding him close and let himself sink under the warm flood of what he’d been missing for seven years. He hadn’t planned this, but now that it was here, he was determined not to think about it too much. Hotch pulled away first to catch his breath, but he was still leaning into Reid pushing him against the open doorway.

“What-”

“Is there any way,” Reid whispered quickly. “That we could _not_ talk about what this means tonight? Do you think that’s possible?”

“Is that what you want?”

Reid grabbed another fistful of jacket in his other hand and pulled Hotch even closer. “Tonight I just want this. Just to feel. Nothing else.”

Hotch leaned in until Reid could feel his words against his cheek. “Okay, Spencer.”

Reid didn’t know if it was really okay. He didn’t bother doing an emotional self-inventory or to check in with Hotch’s expression to figure out his motivation. All he wanted was Hotch’s lips and hands caressing, tugging, warming… and he got it. 

The door slammed and their tongues brushed as they breathed one another in. Their hands pushed at their jackets and ties and belts and buttons until Reid thought that he might come from the sound of their struggle alone; it _felt_ like a conversation. The hiss Reid’s tie made as Hotch pulled it from his collar sounded like “I’ve missed you”, and the moan Hotch made as Reid laid him down and sucked along his breastbone felt like “you don’t know how much”. But they were both ignoring it. They ignored their mutual sighs as they stretched and tangled and held one another, and they ignored the way Reid pleaded and the way Hotch collected him against him at the sound. And when Hotch finally pushed into him, they both studiously ignored their cries that sounded a lot like “who are we kidding?”. Reid was too blissed out by the end to be sure of his senses, but he thought he heard Hotch say “you’re my favorite thing” just before he collapsed into him in a frenzy of disjointed thrusts. And in between the gasps that followed, he could’ve sworn he heard a whispered “Believe me”.


	7. Chapter 7

The warm line against his back began moving. Slowly at first, as if on instinct, and then he felt muscles tighten, legs shift, and arms stretch under him. He took a deep breath and blinked. It was still dim in the room - probably not long after dawn. He’d hoped that they could remain in their denial a little longer, but rolled to his side anyway ready to face the music. Hotch watched him carefully, still sleepy around the edges but sharp enough that Reid knew his mind was already chewing through some ideas.

“Are you thinking about dead people?” he asked and Hotch looked confused. “Isn’t that what you do when you wake up? Imagine us all dead?”

Hotch’s shock turned into something like revelation and it made him look ten years younger in the process. He suddenly smiled. “I forgot to do that.”

Reid smiled back - he couldn’t help it. It sounded like a crappy morning ritual and he was pleased that he was distracting enough to banish it, if only once. Hotch stared for a whole minute in delight before his expression grew serious again.

“I want to talk about last night.”

“That’s not necessary,” Reid sighed. “I mean, it was what it was. It’s a little ridiculous to try and explain lust.”

“You can assert that if you want but I’m going to keeping talking until you can make your escape out of here. And I’m pretty sure that could take a while because I don’t think you know where all of your clothes are.”

Hotch scowled and Reid just rolled his eyes in a universal expression of ‘fine, if you must’.

“Maybe you don’t want to admit it, but last night wasn’t just about working the kinks out. It wasn’t just about lust. You were absolutely right when you said that we couldn’t just ignore our personal history.”

“Aaron-”

“ _Listen_ to me,” Hotch’s voice took on an edge of desperation. “I made the decision to go back to Haley. I did it, and even after a month in, when I’d realized it wasn’t going to work out, I stuck with it. It was pointless and hurtful, to both you and her, and I have to live with that. I never got a chance to tell her I was sorry, but I can tell you: I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to express how sorry I am for abandoning you, Spencer. And if it made you feel less worthy, don’t believe that for a second. _I’m_ the guy who made two beautiful people doubt themselves - _I’m_ the guy who should feel unworthy.” 

Reid felt heat rising in his face, pricking at his eyes, and he turned into the pillow beneath him. He didn’t want to go through all of this - it had taken him years to figure out how to function again… He felt a hand on his chin, gently but firmly drawing his face forward.

“You were never my second choice, Spencer,” Hotch insisted as he struggled to get Reid to make eye contact.

“But, Beth…” He almost choked on her name. That wound had never been allowed to breathe, to heal.

“Oh, Spence.” 

Hotch sounded a bit broken himself as he pulled Reid to him for a kiss. Reid held onto his lips shamefully trying to forestall any more of this confession. If only he’d left before Hotch woke up… if only…

“Did you ever wonder why I pushed you away so completely after Foyet attacked me? After he killed Haley?” Hotch breathed against Reid’s cheek, his fingers holding his face too tightly. “You’re too smart, too insistent not to have come up with a theory or two…”

“I-I figured that… you wanted to distance yourself from the affair. After Haley died, I chalked it up to grief, guilt.”

Hotch made an anxious noise and held Reid even closer as he shook his head. “No. No, no, no…”

“Then why, Aaron?”

“To protect you! Foyet was targeting the people I loved. He already knew about Haley and Jack - I couldn’t hide that - but he didn’t know _about you_ , and I wanted to keep it that way. I was going to keep you safe… I was going to do that one thing right.”

Hotch started to shake, and it was transmitting through his hands and making Reid vibrate in sympathy.

“Are you… are you serious?” Reid couldn’t help himself.

“Yes,” Hotch whispered. “If you weren’t so predisposed to seeing everything through a lens of your own insufficiencies, you might have recognized it in time. As you’ve recently pointed out, I’m not as subtle as I think I am.”

Hotch’s mouth curled for an instant and then disappeared under the weight of his actions once again.

“After Haley… well, afterwards… I wasn’t functioning very well for a long time. Much of that period feels like someone else’s memories, as if I didn’t really experience them myself. By the time I started to come out of it, I realized a lot of time had passed and I had been neglectful. My relationships suffered - all of them - and you were further away than ever. I began to think that you were better off that way. I’d caused so much damage, I didn’t know where to start in order to repair things…”

Hotch took a breath and held it. Reid looked on in horrified fascination at Hotch’s hesitancy; he’d never seen him like this before.

“Then Beth came along.”

“I don’t want to hear this-”

“ _Then Beth came along,_ ” Hotch reiterated with a glare. Apparently, listening to everything was non-negotiable at this point. “You were gone. I’d waited too long, screwed it up too much, and I decided that there was no winning you back. After all, it had been years…”

“Jesus,” Reid grumbled and grabbed Hotch’s wrists as they held him, shaking him for his own nearsightedness. 

“Beth was persistent and bubbly. She did all the work - I just sat back and let it happen. I didn’t exercise a whole lot of will in that relationship. And I was content to let that go on, until you came to me with that Bobby Putnam mess.”

Reid blinked. “You mean, Maeve?”

Hotch nodded. “Finding out about her, that you kept her secret, seeing how much she moved you… I couldn’t stand it.”

Reid remembered how Hotch had dragged him from Maeve’s ex-boyfriend’s apartment and barked at him for his lack of professionalism. He remembered the anger he’d felt in return, and how he’d made up his mind in that moment never to let Hotch into his personal life again.

“Your hypocrisy made me so angry,” he mumbled.

“I know, and after she died, when I heard that you went to Rossi and Blake with your grief, I knew that I’d just made everything worse. You’d finally found someone to love, and I was just selfish, wanting you to be as hung up on me as I was on you.”

Hotch was hung up on him. Reid swallowed hard and tried to figure out the exact moment when they’d got their wires so irreversibly crossed. _He’s hung up on me, on me, mememememe…_

“And now, here we are. The thing with Beth has been over for a while, and I’m glad. Rossi wants me to start dating, and you finally seemed like you were coming back to yourself again. All I really wanted was another chance. But I understand everything you’ve said to me, and last night notwithstanding, I’d take friendship in a heartbeat, Spence. I really would because there’s a place in me that’s been empty for years and only you can fill it. Just… believe me when I tell you that you were never my second choice.”

Reid pulled himself from Hotch’s grip. This was a little too much revelation for five in the morning, and Reid let Hotch know that with a growl.

“I’m finding this all a little tough to take, Aaron.” He got up too quickly when he heard the sheets hiss as Hotch reached for him again, and it ignited the slow bloom of a hangover headache. Great.

“It’s the truth. Every word.”

Hotch’s voice cracked behind Reid, and he ignored it in favor of finding his pants. He needed to get out of this room, throw up, take a shower, and sleep for a week. In that order.

“Well, I’m happy that you’ve managed to ease your conscience, Aaron, but I told you that I didn’t want to know any of this. Did it ever occur to you that this… confession might mess me up all over again?”

There was a long silence in which Reid managed to find his shirt, tie, and one sock. 

“No, that hadn’t occurred to me,” Hotch mumbled.

“Listen, it’s taken me a long time to get accustomed to the way things are between us. And I’m trying not to resent that you’re _still_ attempting to dictate the terms of that after all of these years.” Reid rubbed his forehead and looked back to the bed for the first time. Hotch seemed impossibly fragile sitting up amongst the tangled sheets in a bed that was meant for more than one person. “Finally knowing the truth doesn’t miraculously make this all right for me. You’ve done a lot of harm…”

_He’s hung up on you._

“Maybe, in time, we can get a semblance of our friendship back…”

_This is everything you’ve wanted for seven years. What are you doing?_

“…but the fact that you kept all of this from me for so long indicates that we have some serious trust issues that need to get fixed, no matter who we are to each other.”

_Were you with someone else last night? Because the man who was with Hotch isn’t going to get over him any time soon…_

“At any rate,” Reid shook his head and immediately regretted it when a wave of nausea hit him. “I’m not making any choices about this at five a.m., in a dingy hotel room, and in the shadow of a significant hangover. I require much more time than you’ve given me.”

Reid couldn’t see a lot of detail in the room, but he almost felt a blast of cold come from Hotch’s direction.

“Fine,” he muttered from the bed.

Reid waited for more, another attempt at persuasion, but Hotch just sat in silence. Reid wasn’t sure if he was disappointed or relieved. In the end, he headed for the door with his shirt undone, his shoes in hand, and minus one sock.

“If you find a blue argyle sock, pack it in with your things. It’s one of my favorites.” His hand was on the door when Hotch spoke up.

“Spencer, after the Foyet attack, you never gave up trying to reach me.”

“Of course I gave up,” Reid sighed. “You pushed me away and I eventually took the hint.”

“No, you didn’t. You retreated, but I always felt you there, even at a distance. You never gave up, and I’m telling you that I won’t give up either.”

“Why?” It was almost a plea because that’s what you do when you’re being tortured.

“Because that’s who we are to each other. We’ll always have that even if we can’t manage a single, sensible personal choice between us.”

Reid didn’t have any response to that, so he just slipped into the overlit seclusion of the hallway instead. He was gagging by the time he made it to his room partially from the alcohol and lack of sleep, and partially from the irritation at Hotch’s bullheaded determination.


	8. Chapter 8

On the flight home from Phoenix, Hotch casually handed Reid an argyle sock at the same moment that he pointedly gave up his window seat again. Reid stared at him before sinking down into it with a huff. He thought that Hotch was being deliberately stubborn, but over the following weeks Reid felt him back off. Not away, just to a minimum distance that he could stand, and Reid had to admit that he was a little impressed by the effort. The casual conversations and gentle considerations were still there, as if Hotch were holding up a sign only Reid could decipher that said ‘Not Giving Up’. You had to give him points for being a bit of a subtle jerk about it.

For Reid’s part, he’d managed to redirect his resentment from Hotch back onto himself and his inability to make up his mind about the situation. The night in Phoenix relit the need that he’d worked hard to place in a deep freeze, and the ensuing discussion gave him what he’d been secretly harboring deep down for years; all he had to do was reach out and accept it. But he couldn’t, and he was trying to determine if this decision came from reticence or plain, old fashioned fear. He _hated_ the idea that he might be afraid to be happy.

Nearly a month after the case in Phoenix, he was still undecided and apoplectic at the resulting level of distraction it was causing him. He lost sleep over it, he found himself staring into space at inappropriate moments, and he discovered he had to siphon off a significant portion of energy in an attempt to _not_ revisit those twelve days in his mind. Throughout it all, he felt Hotch on the periphery, waiting him out as if it were all a foregone conclusion. It was presumptive and maddening, and one night, when he’d decided that he’d had enough of the self-flagellation that came from falling for the wrong guy and not being able to shake him, he opted to throw it all back on Hotch where it rightfully belonged. He wanted to be left alone: that would just be so much _easier_. It was too difficult to handle that Hotch might have wanted him all this time, and only now was he able to articulate it. The wasted time and pointless suffering that accompanied that idea was just too much to take in. He dialed Hotch’s number fueled by the thought that _this_ might be the final scene to their extended drama. It felt a little like relief, but a large part of him wondered how he’d fill the space left when this thing was finally over. It was late and the call rang endlessly. He was about to hang up when Hotch answered.

“Hotchner.”

“You’re driving me nuts. You know that, right?”

There was a beat of silence.

“Reid, it’s midnight.”

“Well, you’re up, so…”

Reid heard a sigh and wondered if it was pissed or amused, and then he got irritated that he should give a damn either way.

“What’s on your mind, Reid?”

“The aforementioned nuts thing. You’re driving me nuts.”

“I warned you of my intentions, but for the sake of clarity, how exactly am I driving you nuts? I think I’ve been pretty good, all things considered.”

“You would think that.” Reid huffed and rolled his eyes even though there was no one to see it. “You’re making me crazy with your patience and with your determination, as if fixing this is some inevitability that I’m too dense to see for myself.”

“I would never imply that you’re dense, but I do think that you are stubbornly entrenched in your position. It’s not like you to deny someone a chance to redeem themselves, Spencer. You’re the guy who tries to convince psychopaths to stop being psychopaths - it’s one of your finest qualities.”

How did he manage to come off a little bit insulting _and_ complimentary at the same time? Reid’s frustration simmered, a sharp counterpoint to the warmth in his belly that seemed beyond his ability to control.

“My vein of optimism isn’t a wide one,” Hotch continued. “But it runs deep and I’m holding out for the moment when you decide to convince me to be a better person. I’ll be ready when you do.”

Reid made an irritated growl and thought about hanging up. Hotch was suggesting that this was all about what Reid wanted, _his_ timing, but he thought he’d already made his wishes to Hotch on this matter clear. Their conversation was circling.

“I’ve got an idea,” Hotch added. “Let’s pretend that you’re not angry with me.”

“Presumably, in some alternate reality I’m not,” Reid snipped. “But we’re stuck here.”

“I’m being serious. You’ve called me up to ask advice on how to deal with someone who’s making you crazy.”

“It won’t work.”

“ _Try_ , Spencer. Everyone says that before a cognitive interview or hypnosis or psychotherapy, but there’s a freedom that comes from distancing yourself from the source of your emotional trauma. You know there is.”

And now Hotch was being annoying and RIGHT over the phone. This call really wasn’t going according to plan.

“Okay,” Reid sighed. “But you don’t have the right to get upset at the things I say, or how I say them. This is just about some guy who’s remarkably similar to you.”

“Agreed.”

“There’s this man whom I trust with my life but not with my heart. A long time ago I made a bad decision and let him have my heart, but he was married and I shoulda been smart enough to realize that it wouldn’t end well for _someone_ involved in the situation.”

“You can’t take on the entire burden of that decision.” Hotch sounded remarkably composed. “He made a choice as well.”

“Yeah, well… we both made the wrong one together, I guess. Anyway, it ended, it hurt like hell, and I never got my heart back. And that, right there, is the problem.”

“How do you mean?” Hotch cleared his throat.

“Well, it was over, but I kept right on loving him.”

Reid took a moment and the silence across the line felt cavernous for all that wasn’t being said. He continued.  
“And the shame and hurt and hopelessness of that made it this huge, unwieldy thing that sorta ground me down over the years. I couldn’t even accept love when it was offered to me by a perfectly decent person with whom I had a real shot. He’s ruined me, or I’ve ruined myself in his name… one of those options, anyway…”

“Spencer, I hardly think that you’re incapable of loving. You’re the most empathetic person I know…” Hotch paused before continuing on in a quieter tone. “Why didn’t you tell this man what sort of effect he was having on your life?”

“A lot of terrible things happened all at once. My heartache didn’t seem all that important in the scheme of things.”

“Spence…” Hotch’s voice wavered.

“I’m calling for advice, remember?” Reid quickly added.

“Yes… please continue.”

“So, recently this man has approached me and said that he wants a second chance, and, honestly, it’s what I’ve always wanted to hear and yet it feels like a consolation prize. It’s been years since we were close and he made no attempt to reconcile when his marriage ended. In fact, he chose someone else and I had to witness it from a distance. It never appeared to bother him.”

A sigh whistled across the line. “He’s starting to sound like an asshole.”

“Well, he told me that he pushed me away to protect me - which is noble and everything - but it presupposes that I couldn’t take care of myself, or that he couldn’t trust me with the truth of his motivations at the time. And in light of the fact that I’ve trusted him with my life, I find that lack of reciprocity very unsettling.”

“Huh.” It was less like a statement and more like grunt, as if he’d been punched. “That’s a very good point.”

“Anyway, I just don’t know if I have it in me to go through this again - if it’s even worth it considering all of the crap between us. I’m so tired of feeling awful about twelve measly days, of living my life in them. And I’ve sorta told him some of that and he’s responded by being all hopeful and persistent about reconciling, and now I’m pissed because where does he get off deciding the timeline for this? Or discounting my objections outright in favor of his own rose-colored optimism? And how can he be so goddamned calm when all I felt when he left me in the beginning was this… suffocating desperation?!?”

“Whoa. Take a breath, Spencer…”

Reid hadn’t meant to say all of that, but now it was out, he felt his back straighten slightly as if he’d been lugging it around too long to notice the burden any longer. And Hotch probably needed to hear it if there was a hope in hell of reclaiming their friendship…

“Sorry.”

“No, don’t be. You were just being honest.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Reid tried to sound stronger than he felt. He was almost buying into the idea that Hotch would give him some good advice on how to deal with… Hotch. “So, those are the highlights. I’m not sure that I’m angry with him - I’m angry at my paralysis over this choice. My heart, as always, only wants one thing, and everything else is pulling me in the opposite direction. It should be easy…”

“Truthfully,” Hotch sighed. “This man doesn’t seem worth it. If he knew all of this from the start, he probably wouldn’t have suggested reconciliation in the first place.”

“He wouldn’t?” Reid whispered.

“Not if he cared about you, no.” When Hotch continued, he spoke slowly and with absolute determination. “No one who claimed to love someone would knowingly throw them into this sort of turmoil. My advice is to tell him ‘no’, and if he values you, he’ll accept it, accept that his time has come and gone, and not make anymore trouble for you.”

“Oh,” Reid swallowed hard. It was perfectly sane advice and it rang through him like a funeral bell. Of course, Hotch was right, and now that he knew the reasons why, he’d make the change in attitude as uneventful as possible. “Uh… well, thanks for listening, and for the feedback, I guess.”

“Sure, Spencer,” Hotch’s voice sounded a little watery but he rallied back from that in a heartbeat. “Any time. What are friends for, right?”

“Right. Sorry for the late call. I’ll let you get back to sleep…”

“Okay. See you tomorrow.”

“Yep, tomorrow.”

And with that Reid hung up, feeling no better about anything than when he’d picked up his phone in the first place.


	9. Chapter 9

Hotch was good about handling it. Outwardly, nothing seemed different between them at work, but Reid no longer felt the omnipresent pressure for him to relent, to reciprocate, or give in. Hotch still brought him coffee, just less often than before, and he still spoke to him with the same casual brevity that they’d honed, but now there was no subtext. The respect remained, but there was no longer any expectation tagging along with it. At first Reid was alarmed that everyone would notice, but when they all just continued on like it was any other day over the past seven years, Reid wondered how long he’d been living off micro expressions. They sunk back into professional camaraderie without missing a step, and no one but themselves would ever know what they’d done to one another. It seemed like much ado about nothing, and suddenly, Reid wasn’t okay with that.


	10. Chapter 10

“Have you decided what the carvings symbolize yet?”

Reid turned, shocked to discover he was no longer alone in the tiny room that the New Haven PD had assigned for their use. Hotch was standing in the doorway squinting at the evidence board and its gruesome collection of post-mortem photos. His collar was undone and his tie loosened - Reid wore his like that all the time but Hotch seldom did. He looked around and realized it was dark outside. God knows what time it was.

“No,” he sighed eventually and turned back to the board. “I feel if I stare any longer at these photos and crime scene reports, my eyeballs will explode.”

“Then don’t do that. It would be a terrible waste of eyeball juice.”

Reid turned back with an arched eyebrow. “Eyeball juice?”

“It’s been a long day.” Hotch sank down into the nearest chair. “Fourteen hours and counting. I was about to head out when J.J. said you might still be in here.”

“What time is it?”

Hotch looked at his watch and the answer seemed to surprise him. “One a.m. Why don’t you call it a day… or night. We’ll start fresh in the morning. Have you eaten anything?”

Reid nodded his head towards the half-congealed, lackluster tikka masala that J.J. had shoved under his nose hours before. “Have the rest if you want.”

Hotch looked momentarily tempted and then seemed to let it go, as if it involved too much effort to engage with. Reid smiled a little and when Hotch turned back he gave him a confused look.

“What?”

“Nothing. You’re just… more human when you’re exhausted. You should try it more often. You know, without the crippling sleep deprivation and reduced neuroreceptor sensitivity.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Hotch smirked and then it turned into a yawn on him. “Maybe I’m just more human around you. Nothing to do with a punishing work schedule at all.”

Reid waited for the other shoe to drop, for Hotch to hint at some personal agenda that he’d forgotten to abandon. But he just stretched and looked as if he could sleep for a month. When he glanced up at Reid again, his face creased with concern.

“What’s the matter?”

Reid held his breath and then realized that he was reading subtext into things that weren’t there any longer. And that absence was what they’d both agreed to. 

“Nothing,” he said heavily as he turned back to the evidence board. And then he rounded on himself almost fast enough to cause whiplash. “No. You know what? Not _nothing_.”

“Pardon?”

“Would you go out with me?” He almost tripped over the words because he hadn’t thought this out at all. “When we’re done here… with the case, I mean. When we’re back in D.C.”

Hotch blinked several times, hopelessly lost, before he answered. “Yes?”

“Is that an affirmative, or are you asking me something?”

“Yes. Yes, I will.”

“Oh,” Reid shuffled, unsure what to do next. “Good.”

“Uh huh.” Hotch stared off into space for a while. The PD seemed remarkably quiet all of a sudden. “Okay… well, that seems like a good place to leave it…”

He stood and fussed with his tie a little before looking Reid in the eye. “I’m… I’m going to get some sleep now. In my room. You should do the same. But… you know… in your own room.” He worried his ear with his right hand until Reid could see the moment when he told himself to stop and snap out of it. “I’ve told the team to meet back here at eight.”

And then he turned suddenly and fled as if Reid were a drooling maniac with a knife. It took Reid a moment before he began laughing. Who’d have thought that Hotch would be rendered unintelligible by asking him out on a date?


	11. Chapter 11

Reid knocked on the doorframe to Hotch’s office and waited until he looked up from his desk. He appeared as tired as Reid felt, and Reid suddenly wondered if he looked the same to Hotch.

“I’m going home.” It was two in the afternoon, but the New Haven case had been non-stop for thirteen days and he felt as if standing upright was becoming a supreme accomplishment.

“You finished your case notes already?” If Hotch had more energy, he might’ve seemed surprised.

“I just emailed them to you.”

Hotch nodded and then gave Reid a wave that said ‘then why are you still here’ while returning to his paperwork. Reid cleared his throat and stirred up what little energy he had left. Hotch’s exhausted gaze met his again, and Reid questioned if this was the best time to bring this up.

“So, I was wondering…” 

Apparently that was all the gas he had left in his tank. Hotch arched an eyebrow at him.

“That question I asked you… in New Haven. Is your answer still the same? Now, I mean… since we’re back…”

Hotch suddenly sat up very straight behind his desk and Reid thought that looked uncomfortable, which didn’t bode well for his response.

“It’s okay if you’ve changed your mind,” he hedged before Hotch could speak. “It must’ve been confusing after everything we’ve discussed-”

“I haven’t changed my mind, Reid,” Hotch spoke quickly.

“Oh, well… okay. How do you feel about Friday?”

“It sounds great.” Hotch’s voice was too soft. He cleared his throat, and when he spoke again, his tone matched his slightly uncomfortable posture. “I know that this was your idea, but I was wondering if you already had plans about what we might do…”

Reid felt confused, and must have looked it as well because Hotch rushed to explain himself.

“I only ask because there’s a place I have in mind… but, you know… _you_ asked me, so…”

Reid smiled. “Ahh, I see: socially-coded leadership roles. No, I’m not tied to that sort of thing. If you have a plan in mind, I’ll happily cede my authority in this particular protocol.”

“Wow, sexy,” Hotch deadpanned.

“I’ve never made that claim. You just assumed it.”

“It was never an assumption,” Hotch said quietly, and then moved on as if he hadn’t mentioned it. “Pick you up at your place around seven?”

“Sure.” 

Reid nodded and tried to figure out how the atmosphere went from amusing to piercing in the span of three sentences. They were both going to have to tamp that down if this date was going to go the way Reid hoped it would; slow and steady was all he thought he could handle in light of their past drama. He left Hotch in his office without another word, and that was mostly because he didn’t think he had the reserves to disguise his excitement at the possibilities that Friday might hold, even if excitement seemed like something he ought to avoid altogether.


	12. Chapter 12

Hotch’s ‘plan’ was the Smithsonian Gardens, and despite it being early April and a little too cold, Reid was pleasantly surprised. He’d visited many of them, but Hotch picked the Folger Rose Garden, which knowing Hotch’s personality, seemed very appropriate. It was public, but the cold and the twilight meant that they were mostly alone; it was meticulously groomed and constructed, but the twinkling lights and the maze of pathways made it otherworldly - as if anything could happen. Basically, it was a blend of his own buttoned down appropriateness and the uninhibited behavior that he kept secured beneath it.

Reid was pleased to be walking, happy to move through the shadows of the sculpted hedges and arbors because it seemed to lessen the pressure from them. And there was pressure. It was obvious in the way Hotch conspicuously avoided touching Reid when they met at his apartment, and the way Reid kept doing furtive doubletakes of Hotch while he drove to gauge his mood, and the two feet of space that they placed between each other as they quietly roamed the gardens. Their conversation was stilted as well, and although Reid felt that some awkwardness was to be expected, and he’d experienced far worse, it didn’t bode well for a follow-up date, which made Reid feel as if he’d been a fool all these years pining for something that he might have confabulated in his head.

“Are you okay?”

Reid looked up and saw Hotch staring at him.

“This is awkward,” he said with a sigh. “Isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Hotch nodded and appeared equally disappointed. “And I don’t know why.”

“I do. It’s because we’ve never done this before.” Reid saw Hotch’s confusion and then gestured between them with his hands. “This getting-to-know-you, traditional date stuff. We skipped all of that and went straight to falling into bed with one another. You can’t build something lasting off sex alone.”

“But we _do_ know each other - we’ve known each other for a decade…”

“As colleagues, under very stressful circumstances, which produces a kind of intimacy, I suppose but not the same as a personal relationship. Maybe that’s why you felt you couldn’t explain your need to push me away after Foyet got to you. And maybe that explains why we can work together so efficiently but we’ve also misunderstood one another’s motivations for almost seven years.”

The footfalls on the gravel next to Reid suddenly stopped and he pulled up to look back at Hotch. It was hard to tell in the shadowed walkway, but Reid pictured him scowling.

“So, was this date just a way to… hammer that home somehow? To prove to me, or yourself, that we never had a relationship with a future?”

Reid sighed loudly, agitated by how this was turning out. He’d genuinely wanted to give them a chance. 

“No, that wasn’t my intention - it just seems to be working out that way. I mean…” he ran his hand through his hair, irritated. “It’s frustrating. I’ve been obsessing over you for years… and now I’m having trouble even talking to you. I feel as though I’ve deluded myself - mistaken lust for love all this time. It was just twelve days, seven years ago…”

Hotch took a step forward and Reid saw that he was, indeed, scowling. “But if I’ve been obsessing too, doesn’t that mean that it isn’t a delusion? How could we both be misguided about exactly the same thing in isolation?”

“I dunno. Folie à deux?”

“That’s _shared_ madness, you know that.” Hotch crossed his arms over his chest. “I think I know what’s happening here: you’re scared.”

“Pardon?”

“I hurt you. I never intended to do it, and the pain was much more pervasive than either of us could have anticipated, but I won’t deny that I’m the cause of it. Any rational person would avoid the source of that pain again in the future, and I know that’s what you’ve been telling yourself. It’s been written all over you for months.”

Reid frowned - he didn’t like where this was going, and he didn’t like Hotch profiling him either. Hotch took another step towards him.

“But something moved you in Phoenix, Spencer. And again in New Haven. I didn’t make those moments happen, and I think my near speechlessness on both occasions is testament to how surprised and hopeful they made me feel.”

It was true: Hotch had been befuddled in both of those instances, just as they were now. But it hadn’t always been that way, had it? Day Eight suddenly unfolded in his memory. He saw himself laid along Hotch’s chest in the shadows of his apartment, his chin propped on his hands as Hotch quietly broke himself wide open. He talked about the patience and rage he’d inherited from his father, his worries for Sean, and even his concerns about Jack, which was as close as they ever got to discussing what they were doing together. Reid remembered tracing shapes across Hotch’s chest with his finger as he took a deep breath and told him about his battle with Dilaudid. Hotch had pulled him in afterwards, holding him in a bone-crushing grip, and told him how proud he was of Reid’s tenacity and mumbled something about tearing Gideon a new one for deflecting his concerns. Reid hadn’t needed Hotch’s approval, but it had felt amazing to tell him. He’d been afraid to let anyone get that close before, and that night, he suddenly wanted to show Hotch everything… So, no, it hadn’t always been hesitant. 

Hotch cleared his throat. “I’m here because you asked me, and you’re here because something moved you to act, and I don’t believe for a second that it was lust. If this was just about getting laid, you wouldn’t be so terrified about getting hurt again.”

Reid looked away to the sanctuary of a cedar hedge, anything to avoid Hotch’s eyes in that moment because the important question was coming and there was no way to stop it now.

“After everything that’s happened, there’s only one thing that holds any real relevance in this situation, and that’s what do _you_ want for yourself, Spencer? The past is history and the future is up for grabs. _Tell me_ what you want to do… and I’ll do it. I promise you.”

Reid swallowed hard as an east wind started him shivering in is peacoat. He still couldn’t look at Hotch because he was right and the question needed answering before either one of them could continue. He thought about Hotch lying beneath him seven years earlier and how that night really felt like the _beginning_ of something. And then he thought about how it had actually been only four days away from being cut off from his heart by the same man. Now, he stood staring into the gloom of the cedar hedge and imagined monsters in their indistinct shapes. He was scared, but not of monsters; he was scared of the man right in front of him. Hotch was a good profiler but he didn’t have to be in order to see that. Reid was trying _not_ to tell him he loved him. He thought love was supposed to be easier than this. What if he said the words out loud, committed to them, and it remained _this_ difficult, _this_ painful? That’s what his rational self was fighting to protect him from, because there was no doubt about what he felt - that ship had already sailed. 

He was shaking and it had nothing to do with the wind. The words were there, hanging in the back of his throat, but he couldn’t do anything but choke on the air moving in and out of him as the minutes ticked by. He heard the gravel crunch again but wouldn’t turn to look, and then the wind that chilled him was blocked, replaced by the gravity of something significant coming to rest near him. A finger skimmed the edge of his hand at his side. It felt like the warmest thing he’d ever experienced, as if he were being outlined in fire. Breath warmed his cheek but brushed fingers, tracing the line of his hand over and over, remained the only connection between them. In time Reid turned his head into the warmth and stared at the spot where the outline of Hotch’s overcoat met the crispness of his shirt collar. He became mesmerized by the slight rise and fall of Hotch’s shoulder as he breathed, the way his neck flexed when he swallowed in anticipation.

“I’m scared too, you know,” he murmured next to Reid’s ear. “I’ve loved you for a long time. I don’t want to discover that it was just something I made up to prevent myself from losing my mind.”

Reid suddenly felt solidness at the center of him, like his heart taking root inside his body once more. The relief that accompanied the feeling soaked through him and left him gasping from the shock of having lived without it for so long. He turned his head, pushing his cheek into Hotch’s neck and realized that the man was trembling. 

“It was more than just an affair,” Hotch gulped, pressing his face into Reid’s hair.

Reid wormed his fingers between Hotch’s at his side and squeezed. “Yes, it was.”

“ _Tell me_ what you want, Spencer.” It came out as a whimper, but it didn’t really break Reid until he felt Hotch’s free hand fall into his hair, clutching him desperately, anxiously against him.

“Remember that night,” Reid brushed his lips into Hotch’s neck. “When you told me how much your Dad frightened you as a kid? When I confessed about the drugs?”

Hotch nodded.

“I should’ve told you then. I should’ve demanded that you leave Haley right then and there because no amount of quality sex alone could’ve convinced me to trust you with the things I said that night. And perhaps I haven’t learned my lesson from that experience.”

Reid pulled back on Hotch’s grip until he relented enough so that Reid could meet his gaze.

“In fact, I’m sure I haven’t because I’m about to extend that trust once again, even though I’ve only _just_ felt as though you returned my heart to me, and the left side of my brain is screaming that I’m too stupid to live.”

Hotch’s fingers tightened in Reid’s hair, and he let out a wet sigh that Reid wasn’t sure how to interpret.

“I mean… any other choice would be pretty inconvenient considering that we both appear to be stubbornly in love with one another…”

And with that, Hotch actually groaned, crashing into Reid with a frantic grasping that made them wobble together. Hotch’s lips roamed everywhere and eventually Reid relented with moan, opening up and trying to gentle Hotch’s intensity with the soft slip of his tongue; he still needed for things to go a little slower, a little steadier. Hotch allowed Reid to soothe him down, relaxing himself into the languid pull of his lips, the lightness of breath that they caught and held between each other like verses of a prayer they’d finally answered.

“Aaron,” Reid whispered his name against his collar when he found the strength to break free. “Aaron…”

“Hmmmm?”

“We need to do this right this time.”

“Yes.” Hotch dipped in and kissed him gently, reverently. “How do we do that, exactly?”

“Well, setting a less frantic pace is probably a good start…”

Hotch kissed him again, but it was followed by a growl.

“And, you know, actually trying to go on some dates might help.”

“Are you saying this doesn’t count as a date?” Hotch punctuated the question with a showy, wet kiss to Reid’s throat that made him momentarily forget his train of thought.

“This is a date,” he warbled. “We just need a few more of them. To get used to the idea of how much trouble we’re getting into.” 

“Trouble I can handle. It’s the overwhelming joy I’m experiencing because I convinced you to take me on again that I’m having difficulty coming to grips with.”

“Aaron…”

“I haven’t had an abundance of happiness in my life, Spencer,” Hotch interrupted. “But the pockets of it that I’ve had with you have made all the difference. All I really want is an opportunity to give that feeling back to you - to _be_ that for you. And you just gave me that chance.”

Hotch stared at him quietly, holding his hand and his neck too tightly. When he spoke again, the words came out on a long sigh of relief nearly lost in the whistle of the evening breeze.

“Thank you.”

Reid stared back, a little stunned. He searched the shadows on Hotch’s face, looked into his eyes that seemed almost black in the darkness to see if there was something else he was supposed to understand there. But there was just relief and the joy he’d mentioned, leaking out through the laugh lines that didn’t get enough use.

“I don’t know what to say,” Reid whispered, although after a moment of consideration he thought that ‘I love you’ would explain the reasoning behind his choice nicely. But there would be time for that later.

“That’s okay.” Hotch loosened his grip, perhaps heeding Reid’s warning about ‘trouble’ for the first time. “There’ll be time to figure that out.”

He backed away a step and ran his hands down the arms of Reid’s coat, looking as if he were appreciating the fabric or the cut for the first time. “What should we do now?”

“Cathartic conversations always make me hungry,” Reid smirked and waited until Hotch noticed it. “Wanna get something to eat, or go someplace warmer? I’m freezing my butt off.”

Hotch took a step to the side and squinted critically. “Oh, you’re mistaken - it’s still there,” he said calmly.

“Such a tired joke,” Reid rolled his eyes as Hotch chuckled and they fell in step together, shoulders brushing, heading for the exit.

“Who’s joking? Maybe I was just pouncing on an opportunity to stare at your ass.”

“And now we’ve gone from being unable to speak, to talking like fourteen-year-old boys…”

“See? Progress.” Hotch puffed out his chest and grinned, which looked so ridiculous that it caused Reid to hoot with laughter like the fourteen-year-old boy he was pretending not to be.


	13. Chapter 13

“Hey, kid, how are you?”

Reid looked up from the coffee pot and saw Rossi heading for the same destination. He smiled and shuffled to the side to allow room for another person to fuel up.

“Pretty good, actually. You? How’s the thing with the jazz singer going?”

“Not bad. You know, I’m good at the wooing part,” Rossi smirked and stirred in some cream. “Aaron says I’m a work in progress when it comes to my follow through.”

Reid thought that was probably on the money.

“Speaking of Aaron,” Rossi continued. “I was wondering if I could enlist your help with him.”

“What do you mean?”

“Celine’s got a few lovely, conspicuously unattached lady friends that I’d like to introduce him to accidentally-on-purpose, if you know what I mean.”

“Your implication is inescapable,” Reid grumbled into his cup.

“Don’t be like that, kid. As you get older, companionship takes on greater importance than in your youth - I wouldn’t expect you to understand that at this point, but one day you might.”

 _Hopefully not_ , he thought.

“Anyway, Hotch may have blown it with Audrey, but eventually one of these ladies is bound to catch his eye. And this is where you come in.”

Reid choked a little. “It is?”

“Sure. Listen, he sees me coming and he knows my angle - he keeps shooting down my invitations out. But you guys have gotten close again these last six months… _you_ could nudge him towards it and he’d probably consider it. Hell, kid, you could come along too and we could see if we could find a nice girl for you as well.”

Rossi slapped him on the back, which was convenient as Reid began choking again in earnest.

“Rossi, I don’t-”

“Dave, quit trying to rope Reid into your Machiavellian dating schemes. It’s creepy.”

Hotch was standing in the doorway to the staff kitchen with an empty mug and a not-unpleasant look about him, but he still wasn’t smiling. He was at work, after all.

“I’m not interested in being set up, cajoled, nudged, conned, or wingmanned.” He walked towards the coffeemaker and both Rossi and Reid moved to make room for him. “And I’m fairly sure Reid isn’t up for any of that either.”

“Sooooooo not up for it,” Reid grumbled again and thought he caught a Hotch smirk from the corner of his eye.

“You guys are no fun at all. You’re treating it like a chore… you won’t win anyone with that kinda attitude.” Rossi leaned in to catch Hotch’s attention. “Just come out on Saturday night. I won’t set anyone up for you. You just show up, tell yourself to have a good time, and see what happens, okay?”

“I’ve got plans on Saturday.” Hotch stirred his coffee without looking up.

Rossi put down his mug and crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t believe you. C’mon Aaron, what have you got going on this weekend that could be more pressing than enjoying yourself and maybe meeting someone special, huh?”

Hotch looked back at Rossi for a moment and then turned to give Reid a questioning eyebrow. It was a casual thing, but to Reid it said ‘what do you think’. Reid glanced around quickly to see if there was anyone else in view, and then he sighed a little lifting one shoulder to say ‘I’m okay with it if you are’. Hotch didn’t hesitate, stepping into Reid and cupping his jaw with one hand while holding his coffee with the other. He drew Reid’s mouth to his and pressed, warm and soft, until they slotted together. Reid relaxed against the countertop at his back, despite being on display, and his hand found it’s way to Hotch’s hip as he moved closer. They didn’t linger, didn’t draw it out unduly; they were making a point, not making out. But as Hotch gently pulled away from him, his glance quickly dropped to Reid’s lips and then back again, as if to say that they’d get back to this later. Hotch’s fingers stroked the side of Reid’s jaw once before they dropped to his side, and both men turned to face Rossi simultaneously. The look on their colleague’s face could only be described as thunderstruck.

“Well, I didn’t see that one coming,” he murmured.

“I have plans on Saturday, Dave,” Hotch reiterated. “But thanks for being so concerned about my happiness.”

Hotch nodded to them both, as if they’d just finished a meeting or something, and then marched out of the kitchen with his coffee. Reid watched Rossi sideways as he attempted to rearrange his worldview.

“How long has that been going on?” he asked eventually, retrieving his mug to give him something to do with his hands.

“A while.”

“How long is ‘a while’?”

“I could tell you but it would probably render you speechless for the rest of the afternoon,” Reid gave Rossi a sympathetic look when his eyes goggled a little. “It’s a complicated situation, Rossi.”

“I’ll say. Well… I’m sorry, kid… about that trying to find you a girl thing. And for trying to con you into setting up your boyfriend, I guess.”

Reid laughed out loud because the term ‘boyfriend’ applied to Hotch seemed utterly inappropriate and insufficient. 

“We’ll survive, Dave. Both of us.”

And they would. It was Day Two Hundred and Thirty-Seven and they had survived a lot worse than David Rossi’s attempts to get them to go out with strange women.


End file.
